Because it was Friday
by Kaoru2.50
Summary: Draco Malfoy hated Fridays. Apparently, Fridays hated him right back. Because it was on a Friday that he became curiously connected to his most hated classmate, Harry Potter. Thanks, Friday. Thanks a lot. HPDM slash eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know. I'm awful for starting another story when I haven't finished the other two. But this popped into my head while I was watching Sweeny Todd, and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. Then, once I wrote it, I thought, Let's post it! So I did. *shrug* Sorry and Enjoy!**

Draco should have known something was going to happen. It was Friday. Unlike most of the students that attended Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy hated Fridays with a deep and burning passion. This particular Friday was the day after most of the students left for the winter holidays and he'd decided, like several others, that a trip to Hogsmeade could be quite enjoyable.

He should have stayed in bed.

After all, Fridays had always been the worst day of the week for him. Today was no different. The trip to Hogsmeade had gone well enough. It was on the way back that his horrible Friday luck had caught up with him, not that Draco had recognized it at the time.

"What are you doing?" he sneered, stopping a few feet away from the boy leaning down in the snow. Draco knew who it was. That messy black hair and those garish Gryffindor colors were unmistakable.

Potter frowned down at the small black box on the ground then looked up his mouth curling with the hatred Draco more than returned. "What does it matter?" he returned and looked back to the box.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't touch it," he warned, knowing what Potter was thinking and knowing that he was wasting his breath.

The Gryffindor looked up again, this time with curiosity. "Why? Do you know what it is?"

Draco shook his head. "Of course I don't," he snarled, his hands fisting inside the warm pockets of his coat. "But I can spot magic when I see it. I refuse to take the blame for something happening to 'The Boy Who Lived'," he spat the title like a curse, "simply because he couldn't keep his hands off a stupid box and I was the only one around."

Potter frowned again, and reached out a hand, inching closer to the box without taking his glare from Draco. "Potter," the blond warned threateningly, knowing the other boy was only doing it to annoy him.

He took a step forward as Potter's hand moved closer to the object. "Don't do it," he repeated, taking another step. Potter wasn't listening, his hand moving even closer. He was grinning now, obviously enjoying the slight panic Draco couldn't quite hide. Merlin he was really going to do it! How stupid could a person get?

Potter's hand was only an inch away now, and he showed no sign of stopping. Draco cursed under his breath. The box was starting to glow. It was definitely magic, and Potter was too busy trying to piss him off to notice. Draco lunged forward, tackling Potter to the snow. He was too late though. He felt his hand connect with Potter's head and felt the other boy's hand shoving against his chest as a bright burst of light enveloped them both.

"Ugh," Draco moaned, sitting up as the last of the light faded away. He was cold and wet, and the snow made a less than comfortable resting place. Damn box. Damn Potter. Damn Fridays!

He heard a groan behind him and turned to find Potter leaning forward, his head in his hands. "What the hell is so bad about me and Fridays?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Draco had stood and was trying to brush the damp snow from his robe. He froze at Potter's question though and stared wide-eyed at the boy. It couldn't be... Dumbass, he thought experimentally.

"Bastard!" Harry shot back, standing and glaring up at the blond. Draco felt anger welling in his chest and knew it wasn't his. He groaned covering his face with his hands. This is not happening, he chanted slowly in his mind.

"What's not happening?" Potter asked, then paused. Draco could feel the anger fade away, replaced by confusion, then shock. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

Draco shook his head, not that Potter needed it. He could hear the no that echoed through Draco's mind. "Aw man! This can't be happening!" the boy moaned, digging both hands into his messy hair.

"I told you not to touch the box!" Draco cried, aware that his voice was bordering hysteria. "Why did you have to touch the box?"

Potter spun around, narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin. "Because you told me not to touch the box," he yelled. "Why couldn't you tell me to touch it? I would have left it alone then!"

"Oh, no. You are not blaming this on me!" Draco yelled back, and he could feel not only his anger but Potter's growing inside him and it pushed him closer to panic. "I didn't make you touch the box. This is not my fault in any way."

Potter moved closer, no doubt trying to intimidate him. It was less than successful. After all, the boy was fully six inches shorter. "Well, you tackled me!" he snarled. "I wasn't actually going to touch it! So you did make me!"

"Oh, Merlin, you are so annoying!" Draco yelled, reaching out to shove the boy away. He couldn't even work up the amusement to laugh when Potter tripped and fell on his rump. His emotions were currently trying to channel both his own feelings and those of the Gryffindor at his feet. "How old are you anyway? Three? Can't take responsibility for your own actions?"

"Damn it," Potter mumbled, pressing his hands over his ears. "Can we stop the echo? It's making it really hard to listen."

"Let's just go and figure this out," Draco snarled, spinning on his heel and starting back towards the school, kicking snow and twigs out of his way. He didn't bother to check if Potter followed him. Stupid Potter, he thought, along with several other choice words.

"I can hear you, you know," he heard Potter's voice call to him.

"I know," he said with a smirk and glanced over his shoulder briefly. Potter was following along behind him, the cursed box cradled carefully in the edge of his robe. He looked annoyed, but Draco didn't have to see it to know. He could feel the brunet's irritation for himself. He turned back, stomping closer to the school.

**A/N: Review. Review! Revieeeeeeeeeew. Does it work better if I say it more? Or if I say it politely: Reviews, please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 2! *cue festival music* Yay.**

"Anything?" Potter asked him two hours later. They'd been in the library searching for a spell or curse or charm, anything that seemed remotely similar to what they were experiencing. While Madame Pince seemed proud of the boys' incentive- they were studying during holidays, after all- Draco was beginning to think the whole thing was a monumental waste of time.

"You tell me, mind reader," Draco finally answered, slamming the book in his hand closed and tossing it to the table. He had a headache. It was a pity Potter couldn't feel that.

"Don't need your headache," the Gryffindor remarked. "I've got one of my own already." He stood and walked back through the shelves, trying to find something they'd missed.

Draco knew he wouldn't. The only other student who spent more time in this room than him was Granger, and he doubted she knew more than he did about the selection. "Well, it doesn't hurt to try," Potter's voice floated to him through the books.

Draco rolled his eyes. "We could try asking a teacher," he suggested and felt the uncomfortable tightness of panic in his chest. "What the hell?" he muttered.

"I'm not going to Snape," Potter said from behind him. Draco spun in his chair, wondering how the boy had gotten so close without his noticing. He shrugged. "Comes from working with Fred and George," he explained in answer to the unspoken question.

Again Draco cursed the spell, then asked, "What's wrong with Professor Snape? He's very brilliant,..."

"And a complete arse," Potter interrupted moving around the table and dropping ungracefully into the chair across from the Slytherin. "No way."

"Are you only saying this because he favors Slytherins?" Draco drawled. "Or is it because he'll never let you forget what a moronic mistake the wonderful Harry Potter made in touching a little black box?" He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the other boy and trying not to laugh when he realized he'd hit the nail on the head. Potter didn't have to say anything, after all. Draco knew how to read feelings.

"You can feel my feelings?" Potter asked, far too long after the incident and quite ineloquently in Draco's opinion. "Yes, I see you can," he answered aloud and groaned. "This is the worst thing ever!" And Draco could feel the Gryffindor believed it to be true. The knowledge gave him comfort, even if Potter ruined it by knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Who do you suggest then?" Draco finally asked, turning the conversation back to the problem at hand. They couldn't simply go the rest of their lives knowing too much information about the other.

Potter shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Dunno, McGonagall?" Draco rolled his eyes at how predictable that answer had been. "Oh, and Snape was a complete surprise?" Potter ground out, pushing his chair back and leaning forward on the table. "At least McGonagall is fair." Draco could feel Potter's anger and wasn't surprised at all when the boy grabbed his cloak and stormed from the room, letting the door slam behind him.

It was a shame he hadn't been able to keep his temper, because the move taught Draco just how far this spell carried. He wanted to yell, to kick and scream, but he wouldn't, because it was already embarrassing enough that Potter knew the urge. He didn't have to share it with the rest of Hogwarts.

He had no idea where Harry had gone, but that anger, anger that somehow felt different from his own, still burned in his chest, right next to the frustration and annoyance he knew were his feelings. _Where the hell are you, Potter?_ he thought. Of course he didn't get a response, unless he counted the brief flaring of the anger in his chest. _Potter, I can still feel you._

Draco smiled tightly then, because he realized that there was one tiny upside to this catastrophe. He now had the ability to annoy Potter from a distance. He could tell Potter could still hear his thoughts, because that bit of anger grew, coupled with annoyance, and Draco was suddenly fighting to stay calm. _Damn it, Potter!_ he yelled in his mind, the unexpressive mask he'd long-since perfected hiding the emotions that were fast becoming overwhelming.

He stormed from the library, cursing the spell, upside or no. Potter's anger, when paired with his own, was starting to make him see red, and since the prat was obviously not listening carefully enough, he wasn't even close to figuring this out for himself! _Show yourself, you coward!_

The anger doubled then, or tripled. Draco couldn't give it a growth rate but he turned, letting his narrowed gaze flick around the hall. He had to find somewhere, anywhere out of the public eye. Potter's anger was becoming uncontrollable, fueling his own. He couldn't stop the thoughts that cursed the Gryffindor any more than he could stop Potter from hearing them and the anger escalated into full-blown rage.

Draco broke into a run, not caring that it was a pace Malfoy's just didn't take. He needed to be alone, before someone discovered his lack of control, before he had the chance to take Potter's anger out on anyone but scar-head himself. _Calm down, you idiot lion!_ But he could tell Potter was beyond caring, because he was beyond caring.

He stopped looking frantically around. He was in the third floor corridor, an area that had never regained the popularity it may have once enjoyed before his first year, and Draco had never been more thankful for the fact. He withdrew his wand from the sleeve of his robe, quickly unlocking the nearest door, and slipped inside.

Draco barely had the silencing spell up before losing control entirely, clenching his hands into fists and screaming out his anger. Then, because that just wasn't good enough, he shot curses at every object in the room. The sound of shattering glass from many empty vials scattered around the room, the ripping of paper as books were torn apart and even the tickling in the back of his throat from the rising of unsettled dust slowly calmed him, but only so much.

It helped that Potter had finally caught on to what he was doing to Draco, and the intense anger ebbed away, replaced by the boy's confusion and even a tinge of fear. Worry, then trepidation, then a bolstering of courage and Draco spun around to see the door creak open, admitting the messy-haired bane of his existence.

Potter's anger may have been gone, but it didn't take mind-reading to know that Draco's was still running full force. His eyes narrowed with hatred, more intense than it had been even this morning, and he stalked across the room, the crunching of broken glass an ominous sound in the sudden silence.

If he'd bothered to put what he was doing into thought, the fool may have had the chance to escape, so Draco didn't think, for the first time in his tightly controlled life letting his emotions control him. After all, it seemed to work so well for Potter.

At least, until now.

Draco fisted a hand into the front of Potter's robes, pulling the boy firmly inside and slamming him against the door, which served the double purpose of closing the wooden portal. Then he lifted his wand, pointing it directly at the boy's throat. "Give me one good reason not to, Potter," he ordered threateningly and pressed the tip into the tanned skin of the other boy's neck.

The fear that showed on the Gryffindor's face and that welled up in his own chest, passed along through this curse, for no sane wizard would relegate this to mere 'spell', could calm him no further. The boy had pushed him this far. He could very well accept the consequences of his own stupidity. "One good reason," he demanded once more, and waited impatiently for a response.

**A/N: Many thanks to Rikuri, VampiressKatasandra, Miyako Suou, boredom is a crime, and Draco Uzumaki for the reviews! And the rest of you, leave one, will ya?**


	3. Chapter 3

Potter's mouth worked awkwardly, his eyes flicking about the room, searching for something to save himself no doubt. Draco's gaze narrowed further, the uncomfortable heat of anger and the exertion of his rather violent reaction bringing a sheen of sweat to his brow. He refused to release Potter long enough even to swipe at it though, and cursed the other boy more for his ability to make Draco lose control.

Then the boy closed his eyes, taking calming breaths that Draco could feel beneath his hands. He knew exactly when Potter arrived at what he supposed was an acceptable answer. He could feel the relief. "Dumbledore," the other boy finally replied.

Draco snorted, not caring that it was inelegant. "You think I'm frightened of that old fool?" he snarled, pushing the wand deeper into the skin of Potter's neck and relishing the way the boy's blood drained from his face.

"He's not a fool!" Potter insisted, pulling his head to the side as he tried to lighten the pressure from Draco's wand. "And I know you're not scared of him. But he's powerful, you know," Potter explained, reaching up to pry Draco's fingers from his shirt.

Just to be stubborn, Draco tightened his grip, but there was an overpowering sense of calmness passing through to him from Potter. It was slowly shaving away at his anger and finally Draco let go, wiping his hand down his shirt as if trying to clean it. Potter didn't miss the insult, he knew, but that calm feeling remained.

"He could help us," Potter finished, rubbing at his throat as he turned his gaze around the room. Draco carefully kept his mind blank. Even if it was fear and a touch of awe that Potter was feeling as he looked at the ruined supplies, the boy didn't need to know Draco's regret at such a rash action.

"How?" Draco bit out the word. Potter could hear his thoughts, so there was really no need, but with a Gryffindor, it was better to clarify. Potter might answer the wrong question if Draco didn't tell him which to pay attention to.

The boy shrugged and the movement encouraged Draco's disgust. "I don't know how!" he said defensively at the unspoken insult. "That's why he's Dumbledore. One thing's for sure though, he won't help us if you hurt me before we get there."

It was logical of course. If he hurt Potter before they made it to the headmaster's office, Dumbledore would be more concerned with his golden boy than with trying to fix this stupid spell. Just because it made sense didn't mean it didn't piss him off though. Draco settled for scowling at the boy as he nodded. Draco turned and moved to the door, but Potter wasn't behind him. He was more than a little surprised when Potter lifted his wand and cast the cleaning spell that righted the horrible mess.

He wouldn't thank him, but all the same, Potter knew what he was thinking. The Gryffindor didn't comment on it though, so he couldn't have been as stupid as Draco supposed, not that that was saying much. He smirked at the brief flare of Potter's anger that rose in his chest and followed the boy out of the room, taking a winding path to stop before a stone gargoyle. Then Potter stood, biting his lip and knitting his brows together uncertainly. "Get on with it, Potter," he snarled.

"I don't know the password, Malfoy," the idiot shot back, but at least this time Draco could feel the boy trying to control his anger. It was somewhat pleasing to know that only a few words from him could send Potter into such a tizzy. Even so, Draco would rather live his whole life without knowing that if it meant he didn't have to share in it.

"Then what was the point in coming here?" he snarled the question. This boy irritated him. Just being in the same hall was enough to put him into a bad mood, the sort of mood that usually meant some first year would suffer.

Potter kicked at the wall with the toe of his ratty shoe and shoved a hand into that god-awful hair of his, making the ends stand even more on edge. He looked frustrated, but not as much as Draco. The Slytherin bit back a curse, not that it really mattered when the only person around to hear it could hear it echoed in his thoughts anyway. Then he spun on his heel. Screw all this, and screw Harry Potter. There was no way he was going to spend another moment sharing thoughts and… ugh…_feelings_… with the bespectacled freak.

"Where are you going?" Harry cried, voice high with barely restrained panic as he followed quickly behind the blond. Draco didn't answer, but he could tell when Harry figured it out, singling the name out of Draco's thoughts. "You can't go to Snape," Harry choked out and Draco fought to ignore the pest as the boy tugged on the sleeve of his robe. "Malfoy," Potter whined insistently. "You can't go to him."

He could feel Potter's panic, and depression, that downright pathetic swirl of emotions sitting back seat to his own anger and annoyance, so there was no blaming this outburst on the boy-wonder. "And why the bloody hell not?" he snapped, hands unconsciously curling into fists as he glared down at the smaller boy. "There are things I want no body, and that includes your illustrious self, knowing about me. So you can see how this situation is less than ideal." Each short clipped word was a testament to his anger and that alone was more than Draco wanted to reveal. "As much as you dislike the man, even you can admit that he is excellent at what he does, and is therefore a better option that guessing passwords at a stupid statue."

Potter's face was priceless, a mix of shock and discomfort that might have been humorous at any other time. "But he…he'll…" the shorter boy stammered.

Draco laughed, a short chuckle that still managed to express just how inferior he found the Gryffindor. "He'll torment you? Announce to the world in no uncertain terms the stupidity of the Boy-Who-Lived? Quite frankly Potter, after the day you've put me through, I would relish a little hero-bashing."

He turned to leave, but Potter's soft statement stopped him dead in his tracks. "You'll feel it too." Draco didn't say anything, but Potter was in his head after all. He didn't have to. "All those times you made me look a fool in front of him, every time you got away with murder while I was punished for looking at the black board strangely. He hates me more now than he ever did, and you could feel all of that, as if it were you he hated. Maybe Snape is a good idea. You could get a taste of everything you've put me through."

He watched Potter walk away from the corner of his eye. Was he supposed to feel sorry for the other boy now? Any trouble Potter had with Snape was his own doing. Blaming someone else was just childish. The depression Potter was sharing with him only deepened, and Draco expelled an exasperated breath. Even as he turned and stalked down the hall, heading directly for the dungeons, he knew he wouldn't go to Snape. It went against his better judgment though and he just knew he was going to regret this moment.


End file.
